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Women, the State, and Political Liberalization: Middle Eastern and North African Experiences
Laurie A. Brand
1998
5. The Struggle for Voice
While, as chapter 6 will demonstrate, the post–1989 period has witnessed a notable increase in formal women’s activity, women’s organizing and lobbying for changes in state policy have a long history. This chapter provides a brief summary of both women’s organizing and the evolution of women’s legal status in the kingdom to serve as a basis for comparing developments since liberalization (examples of which are covered in detail in chapter 6). The chapter closes with a survey of the involvement of external actors, specifically governmental and NGO funders, in programs related to women’s legal status and participation in public (political) life.
The Women’s Movement
The first prominent women’s activist traces what she calls the renaissance of Jordanian women to the 1940s and the establishment of women’s solidarity societies. 1 Founded in 1944, the Women’s Social Solidarity Society was presided over by Princess Misbah, the mother of Crown Prince Talal (father of King Husayn). Its goals were limited to caring for children and providing assistance to the poor and needy. She was also named honorary head of the organization founded the next year, the Society of the Jordanian Women’s Federation, although the active head was Princess Zayn Sharaf (wife of Talal and mother of Husayn). These organizations differed from their predecessors in that they were concerned with the social condition of Jordanian women, raising their educational level, and improving child health care. 2 The two Jordanian societies combined in 1949 under the name of the Hashemite Jordanian Women’s Society, but the joint organization was dissolved in the same year. 3
In general, women’s initiatives during this period involved meetings and seminars aimed at raising women’s awareness of health and welfare issues to assist them in attending to their children’s needs. However extensive this work was (and that is unclear), the activity was all directed at making women better mothers and at rearing the next generation, not at substantially changing or improving women’s socioeconomic or legal position.
The influence of the arrival and incorporation of large numbers of Palestinians who had been active politically against the British Mandate in Palestine prior to 1948 had a major impact on the history and development of the kingdom. While women’s activities on other fronts might have been suspect, during this period efforts aimed at addressing the Palestine problem were much more likely to be tolerated and thus served as a focal point around which women might rally to work. On the other hand, the preoccupation with an external issue combined with the rivalries between various political groups led to an ignoring of social developments in Jordan itself. 4
In 1951 the first Ministry of Social Affairs was founded and among its responsibilities was the supervision of voluntary work as regulated by the Charitable Societies Law (which forbids political activity by its subject organizations). Between 1951 and 1979, more than 340 charitable societies were established throughout the kingdom, only 32 of which engaged solely in “women’s” activities. These groups generally comprised wealthy women who, as a way of filling free time, provided assistance to alleviate poverty or to support orphanages and similar institutions. Most of their time was devoted to parties and elaborate meetings, with little energy spent on serious work. 5
The establishment of the Arab Women’s Federation (AWF, Ittihad al&-;Mar’ah al–‘Arabiyyah) on June 17, 1954, early in the first period of liberalization, marked a qualitative change in the type of women’s organization found in Jordan. As in other Arab countries, in Jordan, women were caught up in the ferment of the 1950s and in helping the displaced Palestinians, so that the atmosphere was one of political activity. At the AWF founding in Amman, attended by more than 100 women, Emily Bisharat, the first female lawyer in Jordan, was elected president. Among the AWF’s goals were: fighting illiteracy; raising women’s socioeconomic levels; preparing women to exercise their full rights as citizens; and developing bonds of friendship between Arab women and women around the world to improve the situation at home and to strengthen peace. The federation had a fully developed constitution and institutional infrastructure. 6 The degree of the women’s involvement in broader national issues was clear from the union’s slogan: Equal Rights and Responsibilities, and Full Arab Unity. 7
Branches of the AWF spread beyond Amman to Irbid, Zarqa, Karak, Salt, and the membership grew to thousands of women. Activity focused on increasing women’s political, economic, and social awareness throughout the country. The AWF also demanded a change in the personal status, labor, and electoral laws. 8 Women published and spoke, held conferences and seminars, and participated in numerous Arab and international conferences. In early November 1954, the AWF presented its first memorandum to the prime minister requesting a change in the Electoral Law to give women the right to run for office and to vote in municipal and parliamentary elections. It was supported in this quest by the political parties and professional associations. The government took the matter under advisement and the legal committee in the parliament recommended that an amendment be discussed. However, when the proposed changes were published, they stipulated that only educated women be given the vote, which caused great outrage, since any illiterate male had the right to vote for—and sit in—parliament.
Dissatisfied with this proposed change, the women renewed and repeated their memoranda, meetings, telegrams, and protests to the relevant authorities. A group of illiterate women, excluded from the provisions of the proposed amendment, sent the prime minister a memorandum bearing hundreds of thumbprints (in lieu of signatures) 9 . The AWF then sponsored a Women’s Week to discuss the issue of changing the law. Participants, among them representatives of the political parties and popular organizations, agreed on a number of resolutions, which were forwarded to the relevant authorities: equality between men and women in political, representative, and municipal rights; equality in all levels of education; schools for girls in the countryside; improved conditions in rural areas; equality between men and women in employment and salaries; protection of women’s rights and avoidance of factionalism and decay of the family. 10
The women also demanded changes in the personal status law; specifically, the outlawing of arbitrary divorce and polygamy. 11 Such proposals, however, were not given serious attention. In the realm of more broadly acceptable demands and political activity, women were in the forefront of demonstrations in support of Palestine, and against Zionism and the Baghdad Pact, among other issues. In the context of the nationalist surge of the spring of 1956, the federation waged a media campaign demanding that women receive weapons and first aid training. The authorities agreed and officers from the Jordanian army trained female volunteers.
In the meantime, the women continued to send memos each time there was a cabinet reshuffle, and finally the government agreed to reexamine the Electoral Law. In cooperation with other women’s societies and with the political parties, the AWF held an historic festival on February 5, 1956, well attended despite the snow. At its conclusion, telegrams were sent to the king, the prime minister, the president of the senate, and the speaker of the lower house about the meeting. 12 Unfortunately, other events at the national level conspired against the federation and its goals. A coup attempt in early April the following year led to a political crackdown which counted the AWF among its casualties.
Thereafter, some of the AWF women continued to work, hold meetings, and send memos to the relevant authorities about changing the law and resuming the dissolved society’s activities. But the issue of the franchise would not be raised again until nearly a decade had passed: on April 21, 1966, the king sent a letter to the prime minister on the subject. But political circumstances again intervened to delay action. 13 No swift action was taken and, after the June 1967 defeat, most attention turned to the question of Palestine and the newly occupied territories.
At this point, those interested in political activity, men or women, began to gravitate to the constituent factions of the Palestinian resistance movement, which was based in Jordan until 1970–71. The renewed possibility of political organizing was a direct result of the 1967 war. As was discussed in the previous chapter, the defeat discredited the leadership, the military, and the security services. Shortly thereafter, the Palestinian guerrilla organizations began to take advantage of the consequent political opening to expand their operations.
Their popularity brought new recruits, among them young women primarily, but not exclusively, Palestinians, many from the refugee camps. All of the factions eventually developed their own women’s activities. A women’s committee emerged in Fateh, the largest resistance organization, but was not acknowledged until 1969 14 and not really activated until 1970. By that time, in addition to its other functions, it operated workshops and vocational training centers. In addition, the General Union of Palestinian Women, founded in 1965 but forbidden to open an official branch in Jordan prior to the 1967 war, also took advantage of the opportunity to offer such facilities as literacy classes, first aid and civil defense instruction, embroidery workshops, and sewing courses. Again, aside from the fact that the women were working in the framework of a political organization, the activities were largely traditional. Very few women were integrated into the decisionmaking frameworks of the resistance organizations. Much of their work ended up resembling that of a women’s auxiliary group, 15 although, to be fair, the very fact of going out of the house to a resistance organization office was a major step of liberation for many young women.
The focus on the “national struggle” meant that many other women’s concerns were not addressed. As male cadres were wont to argue, women’s and other (in their view, less important) issues had to take second place to the national problem lest energies be diverted from that central concern. It was an argument common to third world “revolutionaries,” and one that most women accepted, although some only grudgingly. Just as important, the focus on the Palestine question led to a delay in the emergence in Jordan of a national movement concerned primarily with greater democratization in the kingdom.
In September 1970, major violence broke out between the Jordanian army and the Palestinian resistance. By July 1971, the remnants of the resistance had been driven from the country and its institutional infrastructure, including that of the women, had been destroyed or closed down. The lack of preparation socially and intellectually for such developments in Jordanian society led to a multifaceted backlash. One manifestation was on a communal level, as suspicion and enmity between Palestinians and Transjordanians soared. On another level, there was a reaction against what had been viewed as the greater social freedom exercised by resistance members—both men and women. But, of course, the response targeted women and involved a resurgence of “weapons of virtue” and concern with sharaf (honor). This was part of a revival of traditional values and practices, most certainly encouraged by the regime, which began to implement an East Banker first policy, intended to recover the conservatism, and rebuild the support for the state that the Palestinian resistance had helped to undermine. All these developments then led to hesitation or reluctance to raise women’s issues. 16
For several years, activist women had limited options: to work with one of the underground parties or with the charitable society of their choice. The first sign of impending change came in a March 5, 1974 letter from the king regarding the franchise for women. The king’s letter, which included a royal decree finally amending the Elections Law to give women the vote, came against the backdrop of preparations for the UN Decade for Women, scheduled to begin in 1975. At about the same time, a group of women, many of whom had been active in the AWF, met in anticipation of the UN conference to form a preparatory committee to celebrate the women’s year in the name of what they called the National Women’s Grouping in Jordan. In addition to their work on the upcoming UN meeting, one of their most important goals was to reestablish a women’s federation in the kingdom. As a result of intense activity, on August 13, 1974 the Society of the Women’s Federation in Jordan (WFJ) 17 was licensed by the Ministry of the Interior. On November 17, 1974, the women announced the official establishment of the federation, and two days later the first meeting of its general council elected former AWF head Emily Bisharat president. 18
The goals of the WFJ were familiar: to raise women’s educational and socioeconomic levels; to support women’s exercise of their full rights as citizens, workers, and heads of household; to strengthen bonds of friendship and cooperation with Arab and international women’s organizations; to represent women in Jordan in international Arab and women’s conferences; to support Arab solidarity in the economic, cultural, educational, and social fields; and to support women’s effective participation in building the Arab homeland. 19
In the six years of the WFJ’s activity, its membership grew from 100 to some 3,000, with 1,500 in the capital. 20 The federation opened branches in Amman, Irbid, Salt, Zarqa, Madaba, and Aqaba, as well as committees for future branches across the kingdom. Its leadership included women from a broad range of political affiliations, from communists to Fateh, both Palestinians and Transjordanians. The WFJ operated training and literacy centers, and sponsored support services for children, including nurseries. It also briefly published a magazine, al–Ra’idah, until the state publications department closed it without explanation. Among the federation’s regular programs were weekly seminars, lectures, story or poetry readings, trips, fundraising dinners, and annual charity bazaars to sell the products of the various training centers.
In the political realm the WFJ demanded the right to participate in discussions of the Labor Law, the right to attend seminars and conferences to offer better presentations on women, whether in the field of education, labor, or political rights, and the adoption of international and Arab resolutions opposing discrimination against women. It also published a number of studies on women and their rights as well as on the Palestine question. While the federation played an active role domestically and internationally, with the parliament inactive there was no opportunity to mobilize women to exercise their newly granted right to vote. 21
On the surface, the 1979 appointment of the first female cabinet minister in the kingdom’s history seemed to mark another important milestone and to bode well for an increasing role for women. Longtime educator In‘am al–Mufti was appointed the first head of the newly created Ministry of Social Development. Yet in this case, appearances were deceiving, for a new tendency soon became clear: the desire to incorporate all women’s activities into a single organizational framework directly under the control of Mufti’s ministry. Shortly after her appointment, she began working to establish a new women’s union. 22
In 1980, a meeting was held to which a range of activists was invited so that Jordan’s official delegation to the upcoming United Nations Women’s Decade meeting in Copenhagen, headed by Mufti, could make a presentation about its activities. At this meeting the idea of a new women’s organization was vetted with the presentation of a paper entitled “The Ministry of Social Development—Women’s Organizing.” The paper spoke of the need to establish specific federations (for rural women, professional women, and so on) and a “General Federation of Jordanian Women” was one of the unions to which the paper referred. 23
However, it soon became clear that virtually none of these organizations, some of which, including the General Federation, existed only on paper, was in a position to play this role of reaching large numbers of women. So a new idea was generated: to combine the existing women’s social societies and agencies with a number of prominent individual women activists as the base of the new union. These activists, none of whom were WFJ members, were then invited to a meeting on September 5, 1981 at which the bylaws of the new federation were proposed. All those who came were considered members by virtue of their attendance, and their attendance was understood to imply their acceptance of this new formula. 24 The General Federation of Jordanian Women (GFJW) was considered operative from that date.
To return to the WFJ’s fate, beginning about the time of Mufti’s appointment, the state authorities began to harass WFJ delegates to Arab and international conferences, claiming that the federation took positions antagonistic to the kingdom. 25 Rumors began to circulate that the Ministry of the Interior intended to close the WFJ, and finally, on December 18, 1981, the WFJ received a letter from the Ministry dated October 26, 1981 ordering its closure. According to the Charitable Societies Law, the Minister of the Interior was empowered to close any organization if it was demonstrated that it had contravened its constitution; however, a close review of the WFJ’s activities revealed that it had committed no such violations. Hence, the real explanation had to lie elsewhere. After discussions between the women and the Minister of the Interior subsequent to the arrival of the closure letter, he scaled down his objections to the WFJ, stating that the problem was in its name, which was similar to that of the new union. The WFJ responded by changing its name to al–Rabitah al–Nisa‘iyyah f–il–Urdunn, the Women’s League in Jordan, in order to continue its work. 26
But that was hardly the major issue. More important was the question of jurisdiction and control. An early manifestation of the struggle underway had developed around a WFJ Karak–area dairy project intended to help produce additional income for poor women. When Mufti learned that the dairy project had received approval from the Minister of Labor and a concessional loan from the Industrial Development Bank, she demanded the suspension of the loan on the grounds that her ministry wanted to prepare a study of the area. The relevant authorities complied. The WFJ project was already underway, but ultimately reached a point where the arrival of additional equipment, for which the loan had been requested, was critical. The ministry came under substantial criticism at the time for its position on this issue, but refused to back down. The loan remained “suspended,” and as result, the WFJ had to reduce the scale of the project. 27
In the meantime, the WFJ activists decided to fight the order, and two prominent lawyers took their case on a pro bono basis. The High Court of Justice did look into the case and in fact ruled against the Ministry of the Interior. Not surprisingly, however, in the battle of bureaucratic wills during a period of martial law, the Ministry of the Interior succeeded in blocking the implementation of the High Court’s ruling. 28 The name change had not saved the federation: the activity of the former WFJ was “frozen.”
The effective closure of the WFJ left Jordanian women without an independent, unified institutional framework that was near where they lived, took an interest in their health needs, sought to raise their educational level, and strove to raise consciousness about women’s rights. The new federation was of a very different nature. Unlike the WFJ, the GFJW was recognized by only one wing of the General Federation of Arab Women, an indication of the way it was viewed outside Jordan. 29 Inside the kingdom it remained isolated from the vast majority of women.
This isolation was a natural outcome of the federation’s internal structure and (lack of) program. In the first place, it depended for members upon societies and clubs subject to the oversight of the Ministry of Social Development. The average member, therefore, had no rights in or obligations to the GFJW, and if one’s society ended its membership in the federation, the membership of the individual was also terminated. There was a secondary kind of membership, for individuals; however, this was subject to numerous constraints, such as the requirement that the executive of the federation approve the application for membership. Moreover, at least in the beginning, the GFJW had no regional or branch offices, only one center in Jabal al–Husayn in West Amman, and women had to go there to join. A woman interested in joining would be asked for her telephone number (if she had one) and would then be told she would be called if there was going to be an activity. For many average women, leaving home for a period of several hours and riding a cab or a bus alone are difficult because of responsibilities in the home, social views of women’s activity outside the home, and the cost of transportation. A union with no branches and no real organizational structure of its own is not in a position to implement a creative program. In this case, however, that was not a problem: there was no such program. 30
Before concluding this section mention should be made of one other women’s association, the Business and Professional Women’s Club (BPWC), which was established in 1976 as a national voluntary organization affiliated with the International Federation of Business and Professional Women. The Amman chapter has been the most active of the club’s four branches in the kingdom. With Queen Noor as patron, the BPWC offered two primary services before the liberalization: a legal consultative office for women, which had lawyer trainees available to answer questions; and a small–business counseling office. In November 1990, a new project was added, an information and documentation center for women’s studies. In 1993 the BPWC sponsored a series of events, first to register women, then to encourage women to run for office (including providing information on successful electioneering), and then of course to convince women to vote. Although it is impossible to know what impact their campaign had, the final voter turnout was 68 percent of those registered, and women accounted for more than 50 percent of the vote in most electoral districts. 31
There is no question that over the years, and particularly before the liberalization, during a period when opportunities for such activities were limited, the BPWC had a high profile and sponsored some of the few workshops and seminars for women on aspects of law or business. Its officers were prominent, well–connected women, most of whose business experience resulted from being married to wealthy businessmen, not having run businesses themselves. While the intention of the projects, especially the legal counseling and the production of pamphlets on women and the law, was no doubt noble, observation and interviews indicate that, with some notable exceptions, the elitist composition of the organization kept it removed from the problems of average Jordanian women. The following anecdote is instructive. One of the top BPWC women was responsible for the decision by the state censor in the early 1980s to prevent the publication in Jordan of the book on the women’s movement upon which the early part of this chapter’s discussion heavily relied. (The book was subsequently published in Beirut.) Her reason: in the introduction there was no mention of or praise for the royal family’s role in building Jordan; she had therefore decided not read further. 32
The BPWC’s members have tended to argue that what is required is not so much change in, but proper application of, existing law, thus ignoring the impact of class on women’s exercise and knowledge of their rights. Just as serious, a number of unsolicited comments regarding the legal counseling services indicated that, while the counseling was free of charge, the women who went for help were treated rudely and the legal advice offered was inaccurate or unhelpful. 33
Evaluation
For reasons noted in the previous chapter, civil society in the traditional Western sense has been able to carve out only a very small sphere in Jordan. At the same time, the societal restrictions on women’s movement and activity outside the home have placed further constraints on women’s participation in what institutions were permitted to operate. Women’s work with charitable societies was generally tolerated, although it was easier to register new charitable societies during some periods than during others. The lesson of these experiences seems to be that what the state and the men who run it think of as “women’s work” is viewed as apolitical and nonthreatening. Indeed, such work reinforces the status quo, an approach that is certainly more acceptable to the upper echelons of the state and society, both men and women.
On the other hand, women’s activity that implied the potential development of kingdom–wide structures outside a governmental framework was much more problematic. The success of the AWF may be attributed to the political organizing space that the period of relatively greater freedom (1954–57) allowed. The same may be said of the activities of the unofficial branch of the General Union of Palestinian Women, which operated openly throughout the country between 1967 and 1970. When political crackdowns ended these periods, the women’s unions met the same fate as other non–state–sponsored actors (with the exception of the professional associations): closure or destruction. The fate of the WFJ, although related to an intent to centralize control over women’s organization, also owed to its more activist program. The whole episode suggests a state apparatus heavily involved in demobilization of women or obstruction of their efforts at independent organizing.
So does the nature of the women involved in the leadership. Over the years “acceptable” women have in effect been designated from above. The women have tended to come from prominent families and few have had experience in serious work on women’s issues. Not surprisingly, they have had limited political consciousness and even less understanding of the conditions of everyday life among Jordanian women of less privileged sectors. For them and the small group of women that has surrounded them, GFJW work has enabled them to travel to international conferences, make speeches, attend elaborate parties, and frequently be in the public eye. The BPWC has suffered from many of the same problems, although it has generally been viewed as more active than the GFJW. At the same time, although uninterested in or unable to mobilize women themselves, as we shall see in the next chapter, as political liberalization unfolded, the GFJW leadership fought mobilizing efforts by other women.
The impact of external events should also be noted. As we saw in the previous chapter, the openings of the mid–1950s and late 1960s were inextricably linked to broader regional developments. It also seems likely that had there not been a UN Decade for Women, the WFJ would not have been established, certainly not in 1974. The argument that the kingdom, which likes to portray itself as enlightened, needed a representative of its women to attend the meetings to launch the decade appears sufficient to have led the state to allow the reemergence of a national women’s union after the passage of nearly twenty years. That the award of the franchise came during the same period can also likely be explained by the approaching UN meeting and Jordan’s position at the time as the only non–Gulf Arab state which had not granted women the vote.
Women’s civil and Legal Status
While the franchise on a national and local level is certainly an important right, many other areas must be examined to complete the picture of women’s legal status. At the highest level, the Jordanian constitution states that all citizens are equal under the law in terms of rights and obligations. However, while the constitution bars discrimination on the basis of race, language, or religion, there is no explicit ban on discrimination on the basis of sex, and an examination of national legislation reveals some of the bases of women’s inferior status.
Education in Jordan became compulsory with the promulgation of the amended 1952 constitution, which insisted upon nine years of schooling. While this was a positive step, it was insufficient. “Compulsory education” simply means the provision of seats. In practice there is no real enforcement regarding attendance, so the decision about a child’s education is left to the family, usually the father, who may not value education for a girl, particularly if she may play another, economic role at home. Moreover, some villages do not have a school, and families are unwilling (or unable to afford) to send a female child to a nearby village each day for classes. Attrition continues to be a particularly severe problem for girls. In 1990, although illiteracy among women 15 years of age and older had fallen to 28.1% (10% among males), the proportion of young women holding high school degrees was only 13.4%. 34
In the realm of citizenship, the law states that all Jordanian men and women are entitled to citizenship, yet only a Jordanian male may automatically pass his citizenship on to his children. A foreign woman who marries a Jordanian is eligible for citizenship after three years if she is an Arab and after five years if not, but there is no provision for a non–Jordanian husband of a Jordanian woman to obtain Jordanian citizenship. Similarly, women and their children may obtain separate passports only with the agreement of the husband/father.
In some other realms, women may appear to be beneficiaries of a particular law. However, a close reading reveals that even the advantages derive from a view of women as primarily dependent upon a male, in need of special protection or expendable from the work force. For example, not only is retirement age for men 60 and for women 55, but widows and widowers have different rights to the pension of a deceased spouse. For a man to receive his wife’s pension, he must no longer be working (incapable of work), but for the woman, there is no such condition. 35 Similar themes may be found in the Retirement Law. A man may retire after 20 years of service, a woman after 15. However, a woman who resigns can withdraw what she has put into her pension, but a man cannot. On the other hand, payment of a retirement pension to wives or daughters of a deceased employee stops if they marry, but can begin again if they are widowed or divorced. If they subsequently remarry, the pension stops permanently. If a woman employee receives a pension for her own work, she does not lose it if she marries; however, if she dies, her dependents may continue to receive her pension only if they can demonstrate need and that she was directly responsible for them. 36
The Labor Law has been singled out for special criticism by women, but from different perspectives. Most basically, the law continues to lack a clear statement regarding wage or employment equality between men and women. Wage discrimination between men and women is rampant in the private sector, and there is no minimum wage. Even in the state sector, which is governed by a series of levels and ranks, women are often discriminated against in promotion policy, which then has wage–level implications. A 1987 survey of the state sector indicated that men received 27.9% more than females of equal education, age, and experience. 37 Women may also be harmed by the fact that many of the services or protections accorded by law to those who work in institutions with five or more employees are not required of the far more numerous smaller establishments. 38 Traditionally, levels of female employment (not including the agricultural sector) have been quite low in Jordan. In 1995, women represented only 15 percent of the formal work force, a much lower percentage than in either Tunisia or Morocco. In addition, unemployment among women has risen from 5.9% in 1972, to 11.7% in 1979 to 30.6% in 1990, and 34% in 1995, substantially higher than the percentage among men. 39
The Labor Law also forbids women and children to work in certain jobs—there are no comparable provisions for men—just as it rules out certain work hours for both women and children (7 p.m. to 6 a.m.), in the absence of special circumstances. In the field of benefits, prior to the law’s amendment in 1995, women were entitled to three weeks of leave before and after childbirth. The three weeks before childbirth were at her discretion, but she was not to work until three weeks after childbirth, and this time was taken at half pay. Any institution with more than thirty female employees was required to have a childcare room for children under age six, but the law gave women no nursing time. Again, many women do not work for large institutions and are therefore not covered by these provisions. 40
The Civil Status Law is perhaps the most implicitly sexist law. Important parts of this law relate to the “family book” (daftar al–‘a’ilah), which is needed for almost all official transactions. Upon marriage, a woman is transferred from her father’s daftar to that of her husband. However, if she is divorced or if her husband should leave and take the document, she faces serious difficulties. Without the family book, one cannot vote or be a candidate (conversely, with it, a husband can register the entire family to vote in whatever district he chooses). Without the daftar, women cannot obtain food assistance to which their families are entitled, nor can they register their children in school, university, or for civil service jobs. For a woman who is, through death or divorce, “separated” from a daftar, virtually the only solution is to reregister on the daftar of her father or brother. Sometimes, however, this is not practical (if the family members are living and working overseas) or possible (if the male family member is deceased.) 41
The Personal Status Law, on the other hand, is the most explicitly sexist. It continues to allow polygamy and arbitrary divorce by the husband. Women, on the other hand, must specifically request a special clause in their marriage contract to obtain the right to divorce, and the law requires men to pay support to divorced wives for only one year. However, the real problem in Jordan is that the few protections that are included in the law are often not respected. This is especially true in the case of arbitrary divorce—women often cannot obtain even the minimal compensation they are due, including support for children—and in inheritance cases, in which women are generally forced by their families to relinquish even their inferior shares to their male relatives.
A presentation of women’s status would be incomplete without a discussion of the concept of sharaf or honor. More than in either of the other two countries covered in this study, in Jordan it continues to have serious ramifications for the status of women as full citizens. Maintaining sharaf requires that a woman be a virgin at the time of a first marriage. It also requires that she be faithful during marriage and refrain from involvement in extramarital affairs if she should be widowed or divorced. More generally it demands that she engage in no behavior to which the least hint of impropriety may attend. While it is women’s behavior which in the first instance preserves or compromises sharaf, nonetheless it is her male family members who are responsible for upholding the family honor: in the event of suspicions of improper behavior, upholding family honor may require that the woman in question be killed.
Such a murder, called an “honor crime,” is generally carried out by a young male family member. According to a section of article 340 of the penal code (of 1960), “he who discovers his wife or one of his female relatives committing adultery and kills, wounds or injures one or both of them is exempted from any penalty.” Another paragraph states: “he who discovers his wife or one of his female relatives with another in an adulterous situation, and kills wounds or injures one or both of them, benefits from a reduction of penalty.” Of course, if the situation is reversed, the woman receives no special consideration. In most cases, those who commit the murders are sentenced to only a few months in jail, and generally serve only a portion of that time. Moreover, families often designate a minor to carry out the murder, expecting that the courts will be even more lenient because of his age. Minors are sent to rehabilitation centers, where they continue their education and learn a profession. At age 18 they are released and have no criminal record. 42 The light sentence is in part due to the fact that the families generally do not file a complaint: when complaints are not filed or are withdrawn, the penalty specified in law is generally cut in half. 43 It is as if in such cases the state simply relinquishes all responsibility for safeguarding the citizen (the woman).
Statistics indicate that the number of honor crimes has in general been increasing. In 1986, 22 honor crimes (of a total of 66 murders) were reported; in 1990, that number was 22 of 82 and in 1993, 33 of 96 murders, 44 while in 1997, 23 were reported. Nevertheless, there are obviously problems in counting such crimes. First, family testimony is accepted at face value. If the family supports the story of the murderer, there is no state investigation of the case. This obtains even in cases where it is shown after the fact that the woman was innocent. For example, in May 1994 a young woman was killed by her family after an anonymous note arrived in the mail saying that the young woman had a boyfriend. Only after she was murdered by her brother was it discovered that the story was untrue and that the letter had been sent by a jealous schoolmate. Just as troubling, those who study these cases believe that many of the so–called honor crimes are in fact economic crimes, committed against female family members with whom there is a dispute about inheritance. 45 A claim that a woman has violated the family honor can then be used a convenient excuse to remove the source of the problem and escape the legal ramifications of murder. It can also be a way of covering up the commission of incest: some of the women murdered in such honor killings had first been raped and impregnated by male family members.
Changes Since the Liberalization
A striking feature of any attempt to change laws in the kingdom, whether for better or for worse, is the length of the process. Drafts first submitted in 1991 or 1992 were often not acted upon until 1994, for example. (Although in some cases, particularly some of the Islamists’ proposals, there was deliberate government footdragging.) Hence, only in the last part of the period under study does one begin to see what might be the fruits of many attempts to introduce changes in the law. Another striking feature is the number of women’s organizations and committees that, by 1994, were working on reviewing existing legislation and preparing suggestions for changes. The Jordanian Women’s Union, the Jordanian National Committee for Women, the Business and Professional Women’s Association, the General Federation of Jordanian Women, and the Women’s Status Committee of the Jordanian Lawyers Union all were engaged in studies, reviews, workshops, and campaigns aimed at changing discriminatory laws.
As the discussion in the previous chapter highlighted, several legislative initiatives following the 1989 elections gave women reason for pause if not real concern. The first example came in December 1990, when a law was passed making Miri (state) lands subject to Islamic inheritance laws. (Christian churches in Jordan also abide by shari‘a law in the realm of inheritance.) The previous law, a remnant of Ottoman times, had allowed for equal inheritance of such lands by men and women, regardless of religion. The change meant that a son would now inherit twice as much as a daughter.
While the percentage of the population likely to be negatively affected by the law was small, symbolically the legislation spoke volumes. It passed the house without discussion, deliberately part of a very short bill that did not require additional debate. So low–key was the initiative that Senator Layla Sharaf contended she had had no knowledge of it until it came before the house. Perhaps most alarming was the fact that even those Muslim MPs who did not really support it did not feel it was useful to antagonize the Islamists, who had just done so well at the polls. And as for the Christians, one deputy felt he could not object, since he owed his seat to a pre–election deal with the Islamists; in addition, however, he reportedly felt that it served his interests because he did not want to pass his land along to his daughters. When it the bill came up for vote in the Senate, only two votes were cast against it. 46
On the other hand, a positive development from the point of view of women was the inclusion in the National Charter of the clause: “Jordanians, men and women, are equal before the law, with no discrimination between them in rights and responsibilities, regardless of race, language or religion.” This is stronger than the constitutional clause which merely states that all Jordanians are equal before the law. Shortly after the ratification of the National Charter, in August 1991, Jordan also ratified the UN convention against all forms of discrimination against women (although it had signed it in December 1980). Like other Arab and Islamic countries, however, it registered several reservations regarding passing on nationality to children, movement and freedom of choice of domicile, rights and obligations in marriage and upon its termination, and responsibilities of parents toward children. In other words, it accepted the convention insofar as it did not contradict existing Jordanian law. Jordan also ratified three other international conventions in 1992: the convention regarding political rights for women (1957); the convention regarding the nationality of married women (1957); and the convention regarding minimum marriage age and registering marriage contracts (1964). However, Jordan’s ratification of these conventions is not widely known, nor its potential significance understood, so that it is difficult to discern any tangible benefits accruing to Jordanian women as a result.
Another positive change was in the field of health insurance, as in late 1993 the minister of health ordered a change in the law to make children eligible for health insurance through their working mothers. Prior to this amendment, children could be insured only through their fathers, even if their mothers worked and were insured. 47
More controversial, in May 1994, the Senate ratified a change in the Landlords and Tenants Law to allow a divorced woman or a widow to continue to live with her children in the family’s apartment after the divorce or after the death of the husband. The actual proposal was to allow any woman arbitrarily divorced and with custody of her children to keep the rental contract on her home for herself and her children even if the husband ended the lease. The change was to address the problem of divorced women’s being thrown out of their homes with their children and having nowhere to go. An amendment to this effect had initially been proposed to the parliament by MP Toujan Faisal the previous February, but had been ignored. Subsequently, Senator Na’ila Rashdan studied the proposal and prepared her own proposal to the senate and submitted it with the support of Minister of Justice Tahir Hikmat.
Initially Rashdan was told that there was insufficient time to address the proposal before the end of the parliamentary session. However, a combination of factors converged to force the issue. This was a project that the GFJW had followed closely, having sent the parliamentarians a report describing the desperate financial situation of divorced or widowed women. 48 Rashdan called for letters from the various women’s groups, and although the response was meager—only one letter each from three different groups, including the GFJW, rather than a concerted campaign—it played a positive role. In addition, Umayma Dahhan, recently appointed adviser to the prime minister on women’s affairs, contacted Rashdan and pleaded with her to involve Princess Basma (the king’s sister) immediately; otherwise, she indicated, the initiative would fail. The princess did ultimately intervene, lobbying senators by phone to vote for the amendment. Rashdan herself also called her senate colleagues to explain why they should vote for the amendment. The debate was evidently quite heated as Senate Rapporteur Ahmad Tarawineh opposed the amendment on the grounds that the landlord should not be affected by such family matters and that the divorced wife should be considered a new tenant, unrelated to the previous renter. Despite all the efforts, including verbal efforts to shame some of the senators to vote in favor, Rashdan’s proposition received only 13 votes of the 26 senators present. The tie was broken by the president of the senate, Ahmad al–Lawzi, who voted for the amendment. Apparently much of the opposition to the proposal stemmed from the Jordanians’ familiarity with a similar law in Egypt, which accorded the divorced woman the right to force the ex–husband from the house. Hence, the senators insisted upon a clause to the effect that the law applied only if the man chose to leave the house. 49
In the realm of labor, a new law was finally passed in 1996. (A draft law had been on the table since the early 1970s.) Among its provisions are some additional benefits for working mothers. For example, it allows a woman employed in an establishment of ten or more workers to have an unpaid year’s leave of absence from her job to raise her child. She cannot be terminated beginning with her sixth month of pregnancy or during her maternity leave, and her right to return to this job after that year is guaranteed as long as she has not worked for pay elsewhere during this period. A woman now also has the right to one period each day of no longer than one hour to nurse her newborn during its first year. Moreover, an employer with at least twenty married female employees must provide a nursery for their children under age four—as long as there are at least ten such children. In addition, paid maternity leave was extended to ten weeks. 50 In June 1995, the cabinet approved an amendment to the Civil Service Law granting women ninety days maternity leave instead of sixty. 51
With regard to more contentious issues, in early 1994 the House referred to the Judiciary Committee a draft law to end the regulations in the passport law that discriminated against women. The draft aimed at giving women the right to acquire passports without the approval of their husbands and at ending the practice of identifying women on passports as the wife, widow, or divorcee of a (former) male partner. Another draft law was concomitantly referred to the same committee to amend the Nationality Law so that Jordanian nationality could be given by women to their children and to foreign husbands. As of this writing no further action had been taken, but this last provision is reportedly unlikely to be passed any time in the near future, in part because of its implications for the Jordanian–Palestinian balance in the country, a sensitive topic. Kabariti’s government did, however, promise to study ways to facilitate the ability of foreign husbands of Jordanian women to obtain residence and employment.
In August 1995, as part of discussions of an amended Income Tax Law, a proposal was made to allow a man tax exemptions for multiple wives, not just one as the law then stipulated. Among those most vocally opposed to the amendment was MP Toujan Faisal, whose position was backed by the government. The proposal was defeated, as only 46 deputies were present and only 21 of them voted for the amendment. The Islamist lawmakers had argued that they were protecting women’s rights by demanding that men receive tax exemptions for all wives, as well as all children. The Islamists had the support of several leftist and centrist deputies as well. While the Islamists argued that polygamy was an existing part of Jordanian tradition, Faisal contended that it should not be encouraged, and that if a man wanted to take a second wife, he should be able to afford it. 52 Given the state’s continuing budget shortages and its relations with the Islamists during this period, it should not be surprising that it opposed such a measure.
Several attempts have been made to draft a new Personal Status Law (see next chapter), but none has been presented to date. More striking have been the efforts by a few persistent men and women to address the issues of domestic violence and honor crimes. One important development was that beginning in 1994 these crimes began to be reported, and with regularity, in the country’s English–language daily, the Jordan Times. This coverage, along with a concomitant emphasis by the Jordan Women’s Union on violence against women, has at very least brought the issue into the open. Honor crimes and violence more broadly are problems in both Palestinian and Transjordanian society, and although they are more often reported among the poor, such crimes transcend class lines. Honor killing is also a crime in which other female family members are generally complicit, whether out of fear for retribution or conviction that the tradition is appropriate. (Although, one should note that it would be difficult to determine when female family members may play a role in trying to prevent such crimes.)
In addition, both the National Strategy on Women (see next chapter) and the national report submitted to the Beijing conference included references to violence against women, a first for Jordan. The National Strategy calls for increasing efforts to raise awareness of manifestations of such violence, and to provide legal and support services to assist the victims. The Beijing report included a breakdown of types of violence against women, and among the categories was “crimes relating to morals,” although the report provides no further elaboration on this form of violence, and there is no specific mention of honor crimes. The focus is instead on the question of a woman’s being hit or beaten, the explanation for which is given as changing gender roles triggered by broader socioeconomic and cultural transformations, including women’s increasing integration into the labor force. 53
Unfortunately, official circles have (up to the time of this writing) remained largely silent on the issue. One centrist human rights specialist claimed that parliament has never allowed the inclusion of honor crimes on its agenda. A number of cabinet ministers in late 1994 did suggest that the system of tribal justice needed to be reviewed: ministers of social development, the interior, and justice all noted the need to put an end to tribal practices such as vengeance killing 54 (not the same as honor crimes) and the Minister of Social Development went so far as to suggest that a conference be held to discuss ways of abolishing such practices. A Jordan Times editorial placed blame on the state for indirectly encouraging such practices by either participating in them or ignoring them. 55 Indeed, not until a February 14, 1996 speech at Al al–Bayt University, was the issue of honor crimes addressed by a member of the royal family, Crown Prince Hassan. Hassan discussed the issue and questioned whether these crimes were sanctioned by Islam. 56 The king made his first public statement on the problem in his November 29, 1997 speech from the throne to the newly elected parliament. Implicitly referring to honor crimes, Husayn called such violence against women a “flagrant contradiction of our ongoing calls to preserve human dignity and all human rights.” 57 At the time of this writing it remained to be seen if the monarch’s exhortations would be translated into concrete legislative initiatives.To date, however, there appears to be no inclination to push for legislation that might begin seriously to address this problem.
The only real institutional response has come from outside official circles. For example, the Jordanian Women’s Union began work in 1994 to establish a hot line for women to address complaints of family violence. Another institution, the Violence Free Society, was established in 1995 to deal with the issue of violence against women and children through information campaigns and lectures. Longer–term goals include the establishment of shelters for physically abused women and children which would also offer services to help the abuser, as well as a mobile consultation center where the battered could go to discuss their problems. 58 These are important first steps, but the day still seems distant when a woman’s life will be fully protected by the Jordanian state.
Evaluation
This examination of Jordanian legislation reveals several clear themes in the relationship between women and the state. As was clear in the case of Morocco, while some laws apparently are aimed at protecting women, the underlying presumption is often that women are equivalent to minors (indeed, on numerous occasions articles place women and children in the same category). The larger message of these laws, however, is that economic, political, and social control rests with male family members: only men can be recognized as heads of households, regardless of what the reality may be. Numerous aspects of the labor, pension, and social security laws implicitly assume that the woman is being supported by a male and therefore requires neither job nor financial support from the state or her former employer.
In addition to this conclusion, however, as the citizenship law and established practice regarding prosecuting honor crimes indicate, women are not fully citizen in Jordan. Women cannot be considered fully citizen in a country in which they can be killed with relative impunity, on the basis of little or no evidence, on the grounds of suspicion of loss of honor, acts for which male members not only go reproached, but in which they are, in fact, expected to engage.
That said, there have been significant changes in women’s legal status since the liberalization. Some working women’s lives have been made easier thanks to the changed maternity leave conditions, and some divorced women will not be forced from their homes with their children due to the change in the Tenancy Law. Average Jordanian women are most concerned with how to feed their families and educate their children in increasingly difficult economic circumstances. It would be quite a challenge to convince such women that they should be exercised about the fact that a wealthy woman living in Amman and married to a foreigner cannot give Jordanian citizenship to her children. The concerns are different as is the disposition to challenge the prevailing framework.
Experience of activist women shows that those who are most successful in conveying their message to average women are those who present their arguments within a framework which clearly respects Islam and existing societal structures. However much an outside activist may want to see changes in, for example, the Personal Status Law’s articles regarding divorce or inheritance, Jordanian society remains conservative, and more comfortable with the approach of Princess Basma’s National Women’s Forum (a kingdom–wide women’s organization to be discussed in the next chapter), than, for example, with the calls by the Jordanian Women’s Union (JWU) for a woman’s right to an abortion.
Given the rise of the Islamists, some might argue that the less conservative women should be grateful that their legal situation has not deteriorated further. That, somehow, is of little comfort to a small but growing number of women who have felt their rights threatened as a result of the conservative tide. While this situation is not unique to Jordan, it nonetheless weighs heavily on those women who have an interest in seeing real structural changes in women’s status.
Role of external Agencies
The global trends of economic and political liberalization have led to a proliferation of NGOs around the world. Predating these trends, however, was a focus by economic development agencies on the role of women, as most large funding agencies, whether public or private sector, developed bureaus or special programs focusing on women in development (WID). The previous chapter attempted to highlight the role of Jordan’s external relations in affecting the framework in which the liberalization unfolded. In the same way, one must bear in mind the importance of emerging international norms regarding civil society and women’s rights in examining the impact of the liberalization on women. The following examination is meant to be illustrative rather than exhaustive of the trends in project funding, institutional recipients, and impact on national discussions and policy. The focus is on funding that is aimed at national level issues, promoting women’s rights and political participation. Hence, although it may well play a direct or indirect political role, assistance aimed at economic development or empowerment is not considered here.
USAID: Like Morocco, Jordan was identified by AID to be part of its Democratic Institutions Initiative. Perhaps the Agency’s most significant contribution in Jordan in the realm of women’s concerns during this period was its participation in the drafting of the National Strategy for Women, discussed in detail in the next chapter. Shortly after the establishment of the Jordanian National Committee for Women (JNCW), Princess Basma asked USAID to provide a Women in Development (WID) team to work with the committee in preparing a strategy and action plan. “She also asked that they avoid writing yet another report recommending further research on women’s status: . . . ‘We know about the situation of Jordanian women; we want ideas of what can be done.’ ” Following extensive consultations, the WID team prepared a draft of “Issues and Options” for the Committee’s consideration. Two sessions were then held. At the first the WID Team offered its findings, and in the second, the Committee presented its own working papers about the proper role and function of the JNCW. Particular concern was raised that the committee not parallel or duplicate existing structures and that it not claim to represent the women of Jordan. Consensus was reached that the JNCW could play a vital role in coordinating between the public and private sectors and in ensuring that women’s issues would be addressed at the policy level. It was also agreed that there was a need for the JNCW to help to promote the work of women’s groups, to monitor and evaluate progress, and to assist in developing and implementing a national strategy and plan of action to advance women’s status. 59
While it is difficult to determine the exact role of AID in the development of the National Strategy (there are those who say the idea itself originated with AID, while others contend that it simply played a critical support role by assisting with the early stages of its drafting), it does seem likely that without AID’s involvement at this early stage, the National Strategy would not have been produced in its present form. What alternative form it might have taken or how the timing of its issuance might have been affected must remain matters of speculation. However, given that these efforts have, through a winding and not always clear path, participated in Princess Basma’s assumption of a leadership role and of the establishment of a new, national women’s organization, the impact of AID’s efforts can certainly be gauged, for better or for worse, as significant.
Amideast: 60 The impetus for Amideast to move away from its more traditional concerns with education and technical training came in the early 1980s with a grant from AID as part of an initiative from the Carter administration to improve human rights. As was the case in Morocco, the decision was made in Jordan that a sensitive issue like human rights could not be addressed directly at that time, so the project was presented as one focused on legal training and education, as a way of addressing many of the concerns related to human rights. The main result of Amideast’s effort in this area was the establishment of a judicial institute in 1989.
In the meantime Amideast had moved on to deal with women’s rights. At the time, the only group in the country working on such issues was the BPWC. Amideast funded a number of their seminars, publications, and outreach projects. They also supported the BPWC’s review of its legal consultative services (then over two years old) with an eye to engaging in preventative work. It also provided a grant for a “what to do if” handbook, initially conceived of as aimed at women, but ultimately produced for both men and women to help guide them through a series of government bureaucratic procedures and problems. The institution also funded the Women’s Research Center, a body established by more radical women, to conduct a study of the personal status law. 61
Then came the DII. While the initial thrust of this project was a needs assessment for the Jordanian parliament and resulted in AID’s procuring of an electronic voting board for it, there was a women in politics angle as well. In Jordan this took the form of Amideast’s sponsoring of a regional workshop on women’s participation in governance and NGO networking in April 1994. In this conference women shared experiences in and running for public office.
Amideast also became involved in early 1996 in the Global Women in Politics Program, which also has AID funding. Although it was not clear at the time of this writing exactly which projects would be pursued in Jordan, the program’s goal is full integration of women into the political process: to “increase awareness, strengthen advocacy, and expand access to positions and processes; to promote equitable laws, policies and practices; to strengthen regional capacity to effectively implement and enforce laws, policies and decisions, and to promote networking that will facilitate the transfer of ideas, strategies, and resources, and will build regional and international solidarity among women and women’s groups.” 62
National Endowment for Democracy (NED) and the National Democratic Institute (NDI): NED makes grants through its four core groups, one of which is NDI, as well as other U.S.–based organizations, to organizations elsewhere in the world “dedicated to promoting the rule of law, fair and open elections, a free press and the other essentials of a genuinely democratic culture.” 63 NDI was established in 1983 “to promote, maintain, and strengthen democratic institutions in new and emerging democracies.” Its programs focus on technical and training assistance in six areas: political parties, election processes, legislatures, local government, civic organizations, and civil–military relations. While NED funded a survey in March 1993 on the then–upcoming parliamentary elections, NDI became involved in programs in Jordan in December 1993. This followed the Jordanian government’s rejection of an NDI “study mission” prior to the November 1993 elections. (The Jordanians rejected the idea of what they saw as monitors.)
Following these elections, however, a team from NDI went to the kingdom and in discussions with Jordanian politicians and others noted a consensus regarding a need to reexamine the country’s Electoral Law, which had been amended the previous summer. To respond to that need, NDI co–sponsored a conference on electoral systems around the world in cooperation with an independent Jordanian think tank, the New Jordan Research Center, which focuses on issues related to civil society and democratization, including projects dealing with women. 64 (It is worth noting that state harassment of NJRC led to its closing just before this conference and for two days the conference’s future was unclear.) In addition to sponsoring this conference, NDI gave a small grant to enable NJRC to set up more systematized accounting and management procedures. NED has also helped fund NJRC seminars, workshops, and publications. This support has been critical, since NJRC is a center that has jealously guarded its independence. 65
Friedrich Ebert Stiftung (FES): Along with NJRC, this German organization sponsored a three–day conference in late May–early June 1994 entitled “Jordan’s Democratic Path—Reality and Prospects,” which featured one panel on women. The proceedings were eventually published in volumes in both English and Arabic. In early 1996 FES launched a two–year program in conjunction with the Noor al–Hussein Foundation (NHF) entitled “Promoting Women Leadership.” A direct response to the Beijing conference, this program aims at building women’s political awareness and participatory capabilities. FES also sponsored the publication of a Who’s Who for both the 1989 and the 1993 parliaments.
Konrad Adenauer Stiftung (KAS): In late September 1993 in cooperation with the GFJW and the Women’s University (Amman) and under the auspices of Crown Prince Hassan, KAS sponsored a three–day conference on the “Role of the Jordanian Woman in the Process of Democratization.” It was intended to examine various civil society institutions in Jordan and explore what Jordanian women might accomplish through them to better participate in the political process. It was also intended to be a boost for the GFJW, which had been suffering from internal problems for more than three years. 66
In conjunction with NJRC, in late May 1994 KAS sponsored a five–day workshop on political parties to which representatives from all the political parties were invited. In late December 1995 in Irbid they organized a workshop with the National Committee on Women which aimed at training women in democratic leadership, group work, and problem solving. And in March 1996, along with the Kutba Institute for Human Development, they conducted a three–day workshop in Aqaba focusing on the importance of developing democratic practices within the family.
Friedrich Naumann Stiftung (FNS): In late January 1994 FN, associated with the German Social Democratic Party,, sponsored a one–day seminar entitled “Democracy in Jordan: Concepts and Practice,” while in early April 1994 it funded a seminar on political parties. Both were conducted in conjunction with the Jordanian National Society for the Enhancement of Freedom and Democracy. Jointly with the Jordan Environmental Society FN hosted two seminars on the Beijing Women’s Conference, one in mid–January 1996 in Amman and the other in early March in Irbid. The gatherings aimed at promoting the role of women and enhancing their participation in sustainable development.
Evaluation
There is no question that the combination of a liberalization process in Jordan and the unfolding of the peace process have brought a great deal of attention and funding from external agencies. Some women believe that the extent of the government’s recent interest in women is in fact explained by external NGOs’ and other aid agencies’ concern with women. NGO grants often have a WID component, so potential recipients must show some semblance of interest if they hope to continue to receive financing. A number of women noted that the availability of money for political programs has in fact led a number of women’s and other groups to propose more politically oriented projects. Indeed, in spring 1996, the Noor al–Hussein Foundation, which had not previously been involved in programs related to women in politics, launched its first political training program for women, in large part sparked by the fact that Friedrich Ebert had money for such a program.
While the Germans, Amideast, NDI and others have provided funding to various local NGOs that encourage a more active political role for women, the activities associated with members of the royal family have come to dominate. It will be recalled that at the outset, a concern was raised that the JNCW not duplicate existing structures and not claim to represent the women of Jordan. Its role was to be that of policy coordination. However, activist women now argue that the duplication of roles is clear, that the policy coordination role still is not really operative, and that what has developed out of the JNCW and the preparations for Beijing, the Jordanian National Women’s Forum, is in fact an attempt to impose a “representative” structure on the women of Jordan from above. Thus, indirectly, the role of AID, and any other organizations supporting the JNWC (or its mother institution, the Queen Alia Fund for Social Development, also to be discussed in the next chapter) or the Noor al–Husayn Foundation has been to push even further to the margins the country’s few, real, serious, and struggling NGOs.
This interaction between state, local civil society actors, and external funders is examined in more detail in the case studies in the next chapter.
Endnotes
Note 1: Emily Bisharat, “Muhattat Mudi’ah fi Tarikh Masirat al-Mar’ah al-Urdunniyyah ,” Al-Dustur, June 29, 1993. (Hereafter cited as Bisharat.) Back.
Note 2: Haifa Jamal, “Juhud Ittihad al-Mar’ah al-Urdunniyyah fi Sabil Tatwir al-Tashri‘at al-Khassah b-il-Mar’ah,” unpublished paper presented at the First Conference of the JWU, 13–15 June 1995, p. 3. (Hereafter cited as Jamal.) Back.
Note 3: Bisharat. It should be noted that Bisharat and Suhayr al-Tall, Muqaddimat Hawla Qadiyat al-Mar’ah w-al-Harakah al-Nisa’iyyah f-il-Urdunn (Beirut: al-Mu‘assasah al-‘Arabiyyah l-il-Dirasat w-al-Nashr, 1985; hereafter cited as al-Tall), are the only two accounts that cover this entire period and, unfortunately, they do not always agree. In cases of lack of complementarity I have relied on al-Tall, who is a researcher and whose account is much more detailed and critical. Bisharat, whose piece is, admittedly, much shorter, has clearly omitted a number of important events, presumably for political reasons. Back.
Note 4: Al-Tall, p. 111. Back.
Note 5: Ibid., pp. 122 and 124. Back.
Note 11: Al-Tall, p. 129. Back.
Note 14: Al-Tall, p. 115. Back.
Note 15: Laurie A. Brand, Palestinians in the Arab World: Institution Building and the Search for State (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), pp. 199–200. Back.
Note 16: Al-Tall, p. 58. Back.
Note 17: The name is significant: The Women’s Federation in Jordan rather than the Jordanian Women’s Federation, or some similar formulation. It allowed for both Transjordanian and Palestinian women to participate without feeling they were compromising their communal identities. There was a conscious effort at this point—when the memories of 1970 were still quite strong—to bring together women from both communities to work together in a common framework. Back.
Note 18: Da‘d Mu‘adh, “Tajribat al-Ittihad al-Nisa’i (1974–1981),” Al-Urdunn al-Jadid, no. 7 (spring 1986), p. 60 (hereafter cited as Mu‘adh); al-Tall, pp. 117 and 130. Back.
Note 19: Al-Tall, pp. 131–32. Back.
Note 20: Ibid., p. 134; Mu‘adh, p. 61. While Mu‘adh cites the same total numbers, she attributes only 800 members to the capital. In most respects, however, her presentation follows that of al-Tall extremely closely. Back.
Note 21: Al-Tall, pp. 141–42. Back.
Note 22: Ibid., p. 161; Mu‘adh, p. 63. Back.
Note 23: Al-Tall, pp. 162–63. Back.
Note 26: Al-Tall, p. 157. Back.
Note 27: Ibid., pp. 155–56. Back.
Note 28: It is interesting that in her long newspaper article on the history of the women’s movement, Bisharat simply notes that the union was closed. No comment or explanation is offered. Back.
Note 29: Brand, p. 202. I am grateful to Amal Sabbagh, who pointed out to me that the GFAW was not united in its rejection of the GFJW. Back.
Note 30: Majidah al-Masri, “Al-Azmah al-Rahinah l-il-Harakah al-Nisa’iyyah f-il-Urdunn,” Al-Urdunn al-Jadid, no. 7 (Spring 1986), pp. 67 and 69. Back.
Note 31: Business and Professional Women’s Club, “Grassroots Democracy Project,” unpublished report. Amman, March 1994. Back.
Note 32: A number of very dismaying stories were recounted to me spontaneously by women whom I was not interviewing for the project when they heard that I was conducting research on women’s organizations. Back.
Note 33: Interview with Suhayr al-Tall, author and researcher on social issues, June 3, 1996. Back.
Note 34: Al-Tall, p. 65; Husayn Shikhatra, Al-Mar’ah al-Urdunniyyah: Haqa’iq wa Arqam (hereafter cited as Shikhatra) (Amman: BPWC, 1992), pp. 19, 23–30. Back.
Note 35: Nasrin Mahasanah, “Wad‘ al-Mar’ah al-Urdunniyyah fi Tashri‘at al-Qanuniyyah” (hereafter cited as Mahasanah), unpublished study sponsored by the General Secretariat, National Assembly, Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, 1994, p. 19. Back.
Note 36: Ibid., p. 22; al-Tall, p. 105. Back.
Note 37: Nadia Takriti Kamal and Mary Qa‘war, “The Status and Role of Women in Development in Jordan,” Manpower Division, Ministry of Planning, Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Unpublished paper presented at the ILO meeting on “Women in the Jordanian Labor Force” held at the Royal Scientific Society, Amman, December 1990, Table 4. Back.
Note 38: Mahasanah, p. 8. Back.
Note 39: Shikhatra, p. 36; Kamal and Qa‘war, “The Status and Role of Women in Development in Jordan,”p. 16. Back.
Note 40: Mahasaneh, p. 5; al-Tall, p. 98. Back.
Note 41: Mahasanah, p. 20. Interview with Amal Sabbagh, the Ministry of Social Development, July 19, 1993. In late 1996, apparently thanks to the efforts of Princess Basma, a number of key issues related to such difficulties were put at the discretion of the head of the Civil Status and Passports Department. This change was intended to facilitate the access of widows, divorced women, and Jordanian wives of foreign nationals to separate family books. Jordan Times (hereafter, JT), December 17, 1996. Back.
Note 42: JT, October 6–7, 1994. Back.
Note 43: In a tragic twist on the concept of an honor crime, the JT December 25, 1995 reported the story of parents who killed their newborn son because he was conceived out of wedlock, and then received reduced sentences because it was their child. This further problematizes the notion of citizenship (in terms of meaning protection under the law). Back.
Note 44: JT, October 6–7, 1994. Back.
Note 45: Interview with Suhayr al-Tall, 20 July 1994; JT December 31, 1994. Back.
Note 46: Interview with Senator Layla Sharaf, July 1, 1993. Back.
Note 47: JT, July 11, 1993. Back.
Note 48: The Star, May 12, 1994. Back.
Note 49: Interviews with Senator Na’ila Rashdan, August 6, 1994 and May 22, 1996. Back.
Note 50: Al-Dustur, May 19, 1996. Back.
Note 51: Al-Ra’y, June 7, 1995. Back.
Note 52: JT, August 28, 1995. Back.
Note 53: Jordanian National Women’s Committee, “National Strategy for Women in Jordan,” (a booklet) September 1993, p. 11; “The National Report on the Jordanian Woman for the International Conference, Beijing 1995,” (in Arabic), pp. 44–48. Back.
Note 54: JT, September 10, 1994. Back.
Note 55: JT, February 1, 1995. Back.
Note 56: The crown prince raised the issue again at a symposium organized by the Public Security Department in August 1997. See JT, August 27, 1997. Back.
Note 57: JT, November 30, 1997. Back.
Note 58: JT, September 14–15, 1995. Back.
Note 59: Women in Development Team, USAID/Amman, “Proposed National Strategy and Action Plan for the National Women’s Committee,” draft, June 30, 1992, from the executive summary. Back.
Note 60: Much of the material in this section is taken from an interview with Janine al-Tall, Director of AMIDEAST, Amman, March 12, 1996. Back.
Note 61: The experience of Toujan Faisal during the fall 1989 parliamentary campaign will be examined in detail in chapter 6. Back.
Note 62: The Asia Foundation, “Women in Politics Program,” an information page. Back.
Note 63: National Endowment for Democracy, 1994 Annual Report, p. 5. Back.
Note 64: National Democratic Institute, Democracy and Local Government in Jordan: 1995 Muncipal Elections (Washington. D.C.: NDI, September 1995). Back.
Note 65: National Endowment for Democracy, 1994 Annual Report, p. 55. Back.
Note 66: See section on GFJW in next chapter. Back.
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